


A Gift Of Your Time

by Lunarium



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: Another journal of Árni's, discovered in the attic of Reynir's home, sends him and Lalli down a curious dream-road one winter night.





	

Lalli whipped back around and glared at Reynir. “We’re lost. Thanks to you.” 

Reynir gave a small sigh as he peered back at the journal. “Can’t be. We’ve followed everything my great grandfather had described here.” 

“We’re lost,” Lalli repeated. “Should have known. You couldn’t even find your way to—to…wherever you were going to before you ended up with us.”

“Bornholm,” Reynir said. “And in the end it all worked for the better, didn’t it? We got to meet, after all!” 

“It was such a pleasure,” Lalli said sardonically before snorting and adding the next bit under his breath. “Palm trees!” 

“Oh, you love me!” Reynir teased. 

He turned back to Árni Reynisson’s journal. It wasn’t the same as the one he and Lalli had pored through and dissected during the famed expedition. After he had moved out of the Arngerðareyri, Árni apparently had marked the new era of his life with a new journal, this time kept so well hidden in the farmhouse that Reynir and Lalli had come upon it by sheer chance while digging out the winter decorations for Reynir’s parents. 

“I wonder if there are secrets in here like the last one,” Reynir said aloud. 

“Can’t be,” Lalli said, half distracted as he scanned around himself. He stood a few paces away from Reynir as he tried to discern where they were in the dreamworld. They must have walked for miles. “Elva wasn’t with him this time.” 

Reynir winced at the memory. “Yeah…” 

Unlike the first journal, Árni gave no introduction upon his first entry. His dream must have been enough to stir him to write it down before putting it out of sight. It was also the only entry in the journal, though Reynir had not read all of it. Once they had gotten through the first couple pages of it, the two boys had immediately agreed to enter the dreamworld to embark on this adventure. Call it nostalgia; they missed the days of following Árni’s tracks. 

The entry was written on the winter solstice in Year 12, months after the birth of Ragnar Árnason. To give himself something to do, Reynir read the entry aloud again. 

“ _Never has any dream of mine gotten me as far as this before. I was distraught to find myself no longer beside my wife and could no longer hear the occasional bleating of one of my sheep. Long gone was the tranquility of this life I had meticulously built after Elva, but now I was back in uncharted terrains, as I have not been for many years. But the path in which I was to take was made clear to me, and to my dismay I understood I had to take this journey in complete solitude—_

—He’s gotten poetic in his writing this time, hasn’t he, Lalli?” 

“Everyone’s a poet when they’re writing half-asleep.” 

A corner of Reynir’s lips quirked. “How would you know?” The thought of _Lalli_ penning poetry at all made Reynir nearly double over with laughter, but he restrained himself; not doing so could be detrimental to his braid. 

Lalli glanced over his shoulder and glared at him. “Shut it!” 

Reynir shrugged with a devilish grin. “Okay!” They had become experts in entering the exact locations Árni spoke of in his entries; when they awoke it was to find themselves lying side by side before the mouth of the winding road that Árni had described. But the longer they walked, the less snow there was on the ground, and the more Lalli shook his head, grumbling angrily that Reynir had somehow messed up. The world about them felt different. Too different, like it was summer, though the air was still chilly. 

Reynir was rereading Árni’s entry for the umpteenth time when he heard Lalli speak. 

“Palm trees.” 

“You’re still on about tha—Oh.” 

The place where Lalli stood offered them a clear vantage point of the land their road would lead them. Lalli took hold of Reynir’s braid and tugged, signaling him to follow. No sooner had they travelled about a mile before a melodic voice filled the sky above them. Neither could discern the words, but as though they were a mage’s spell the words cast down a calm on their shoulders. 

Reynir gripped Árni’s journal closer to his chest. It was exactly as his great grandfather had described it: 

_As I took the winding path down the pebbled road, spotting a few tall palm trees ahead of me, the sky drew wide open above me, and there came a voice that filled the skies louder than the light of the full moon. I have only ever heard it in televised programs before, read about it, but never got to experience it myself. Every hair on my arm stood on end, but I was not scared. I wept with joy as if serenity had swept over me and drained me from the grieves of my past._

Heart pounding, Reynir blinked back the tears in his eyes. In front of him, the glow emitting from Lalli’s eyes swirled with the tears, though his expression remained poised as ever. 

Reynir reached out with his free hand to stop Lalli when they were close to one of the trees, pointing up. He picked one of the yellow fruit and examined it further. 

“I thought coconuts would be larger and browner,” Reynir said. 

“Those are dates, not coconuts!” someone shouted from a distance. “ _‘ahblah._ ” 

Laughter rained down. 

Lalli dropped Reynir’s braid and ran to get a better view of who had spoken. High above them, perched on the balcony of some old buildings made of hard stone, was a large group of mages. No two attire was similar; some wore long plain white robes and others wore robes more elaborate, yet they all appeared to belong to the same region. 

The one who had spoken to them was grinning back down at them. She exchanged a few more words to her friend before they both stood up and made their way down towards them. A few of the other mages followed. A few mages, who had been sitting outside the building, gathered around tables set up with tea, also stood up and bowed upon seeing them. They each regarded Reynir and Lalli with interest, their faces kind and warm amidst the chilly night sky. 

“ _As'salaam 'alaykum_ ,” said the first mage, who appeared to be the leader amongst them. Golden coins dangled from her long hair shawl that swept over black robes embroidered with red and green thread and tiny beads. Around her waist was secured a small dagger and satchel, presumably for carrying herbs for magic-making. 

Her friend bowed. From her necklace shone a shining golden star. “ _Shalom aleichem_.” 

“ _Bari galu'st_ ,” came another greeting, from a dark-skinned man wearing a tall headgear. The pendent around his neck reminded Reynir of the chapel in his dreams and a pastor from just a few years back. 

" _Khosh amadid_ ," greeted another man draped in all white. And down the line they went. 

Lastly, Reynir and Lalli gave greeting in their languages. 

“We did not mean to trespass or anything,” Reynir said, thinking of the time he barged in on Lalli. “We were following my great grandfather’s journal, and—” 

“You _do_ look just like Árni!” spoke the leader suddenly. She smiled. “We knew to expect you at some point. We saw Árni three years ago around this time!”

Reynir’s jaw hung open. “Three years? He’s my great grandfather!” 

The leader shrugged. “Don’t know how he did it. Árni said he could travel through all of time and space, just like—who did he say he was like again?” 

“Like Doctor _Hoo_ ,” the Christen mage answered. 

“Doctor Hoo?” Lalli cocked an eyebrow as he gave Reynir a look. 

Reynir shrugged. Árni never mentioned any doctor named Hoo in his journals. “Must have been a vet who cared for the farm’s cow?” he offered. “Could have been a mage too.” 

“Ah.” 

“And what’s so rude about you two coming here?” asked the mage in dressed in all white. “We gather together every night! A visitor from a faraway land is more than welcome! Árni was such joy; poor thing looked like he needed some rest and merriment in our lands! He was quite weary when we received him!” 

“Come join us!” said the leader’s friend. “We have tea and sweets enough for everyone! And we will sing and dance shortly! This is a very special night for all of us, for different reasons, as I’m sure this night means something different and special to you both.” 

“We would love to hear more about your lives and the places you live in,” the leader said. 

“Well?” Reynir asked Lalli in a soft voice so only the both of them could hear. “More mages! This is an interesting find, don’t you think?” 

“I’m…curious.” Lalli offered Reynir a rare smile—small, almost invisible, quickly gone—but Reynir caught it. He gave Reynir a one shoulder shrug before tentatively approaching them. The closest mage went to embrace Lalli, but at seeing him shrink away, held out his hand to shake instead. 

As Lalli was settled among the different mages, offered a tea that he seemed to grow a quick liking to, Reynir turned back to Árni’s journal, grinning. He meant to go join them, but first he flipped through his great grandfather’s pages before his eyes fell on the final page. 

It was addressed directly to Reynir:

_To my great grandson and your companion:_

_One day you will find this journal while hunting for holiday decorations, and you will come across the friends I have made this night. Be with them, tell them your names and be their friends, and they will do the same. The Illness which has fractured this fragile planet had separated us from our fellow man worse than any war, but know this: that the love in humanity is ever strong._

_When I met these people, I had already closed myself to the world. I was cold even to my wife, and I would have been the same to my son. The peculiarity of finding myself in such a dream after trying to silence my own magic had prompted me to have this final adventure, and I must confess, it has salved an ailment I had not wished to address. It has given me hope, led me right to the holy land of Bethlehem and had me see it flourished and ever alive, full of people who will live its many rich and vibrant traditions. I wish for you to witness this. It is happening right now, many miles away from you!_

_These mages are but few of the many still out there. When I met them, they were still not born. By the time you speak with them, I would have been long gone. I did not wish to intrude upon them, as you and your companion will feel. But this meeting will happen. You both will be glad for it, and these mages as well. For we are now in the season of giving, and there is nothing better than the gift of your time._

_Greatest holiday wishes to you, dear great grandson, and same to your companion._




**Author's Note:**

> My story for the SSSS Forum's Advent Calendar for December 12. :) I could not resist the idea of Semitic mages, nor play around with the idea of a Middle-east that can live and express itself freely post Rash Illness (though now there's all them jinns and golems and ghouls to be dealing with. But I have faith in these mages!) They were such a fun crowd to write, and I may revisit them some day, who knows. :) 
> 
> As for who Reynir and Lalli had met, they include: a Palestinian Muslim mage, a Jewish Mystic mage, an Armenian-speaking Christian mage, and a Zoroastrian mage, although there were many other mages from various cultures (such as a pre-Islamic era pagan mage) in the group that have greeted Reynir and Lalli as well. The region is really vibrant and rich with various tribes and cultures that the scene would have been much longer. 
> 
> This kind-of ties into the Mageverse what with mentions of Árni's journal. Not sure if I should make it part of it. Consider it a Holiday special extra? :)


End file.
